


What Happens After Happily Ever After?

by 74days



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-11-12
Updated: 2013-11-27
Packaged: 2018-01-01 05:54:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1041124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/74days/pseuds/74days
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles grew up, moved away and got married to a wonderful woman. However, when his happily ever after falls apart, he finds himself back in Beacon Hills - and back to more than he bargained for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Stiles left Beacon Hills. It wasn’t in a “fit of rage and I’m never coming back” type of way, more of an “I got accepted to NULA and I’d really like to go” type of way. Then it had become “I’ve got a summer job.” Then “Dad, why don’t you come over and meet my girlfriend?” It later morphed into “I have my own company and have dinner on Tuesdays with my fiancés parents.” After that it was only a year or two before it became: “The wedding is in four weeks, Scott! Help me! I’m freaking out!” and then “The new house is near some pretty good schools, you know?”

He wasn’t even sure when he’d really become aware of the fact that he’d left. Left for good. Somewhere between starting up his company and getting down on one knee in the park, surrounded by picnic foods and a bottle of champagne, he figured it out.

And it was good. It was great, actually. His studies had bombed and he’d ended up dropping out of school, but he’d landed on his feet – his shaman training took off and he had made a lot of connections in the seriously bustling supernatural haven of New Orleans. What once was odd jobs and weekend work soon turned into a real plan, a solid living. He started up Beacon Consulting, a legitimate security firm that made just as much from the human clients as it did the otherworld ones. He suggested security cameras and weight plates for one half, and runes and spell work for the other, was paid handsomely by both and was able to go home at the end of the day to his beautiful wife who was blissfully ignorant of his not quite double life. His relationship with his dad improved tenfold when he wasn’t lying to the man’s face every day, and had quickly become something of a pillar of the community. Both communities. He had lunches in classy wine bars with Shifters, played tennis at the country club with both a hedge fund manager and a hedge witch, hired a small army of people and still managed to stay hands on and active in the role he’d built.

“Hi baby.” He called, pushing the door open. The house was much bigger than the first one he’d bought. Sarah wanted something grander to go with their lifestyle. Stiles had never really managed to say no to her.

He’d gotten home early, his lunchtime appointment cancelled as the Deamon’s wife had gone into early labour – he grinned. Soon enough he’d be running out of restaurants and panicking over the ‘grab bag’ for the hospital. Sarah wanted kids. Stiles wanted kids. Win win!

Tossing his keys into the bowl they’d made on their 2nd date – a pottery class that was positively **_inspired_** , regardless of what Lydia had snorted down the phone – and grabbed the mail from the table.

“Bills,” he said, flipping through them. “Bill, bill, bill.” He glanced around the room, already bored. Sarah had been at yoga that morning, her mat and bag were still in the hallway where she left them, clothes scattered up the hallway and the wide staircase. “You have some cheek complaining at me for this, you know?” He muttered, grabbing at the bright pink vest as he made his way upstairs. “At least I don’t leave my damn box..er..s...” He picked up a pair of tighty-whities that certainly didn’t belong in his varied selection of superhero boxer briefs.

“Oh.” He said, as his heart skipped a beat, and then another. The air around his head seemed thicker, just for a moment, before the framed photographs that lined the stairway started to shake, rattling against the walls before he managed to fill his lungs with air. On his skin he could feel his lack of control cause his tattoos to morph and shift, moving across his body. It was that movement that brought him back down. He couldn’t let his wife see them shift. He couldn’t lose control.

Sarah must have heard him arriving, because she was suddenly right there, her blond hair mussed and nothing at all like its normally perfect state. She was wrapped in a white bedsheet. Her face was just as pale.

“I can explain.” She whispered, tears in her eyes.

Stiles let her.

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you are such an idiot.” Lydia snapped down the line. “Jackson, come here and tell him he’s an idiot.”

Stiles looked blankly at the computer screen in front of him for a few moments before the sound of the phone changing hands and Jackson’s voice was in his ear. “You. Are. An. Idiot.”

“Yes, thank you, Whittamores.” Stiles intoned, clicking on his email. Baby pictures popped up and Stiles couldn’t help the smile on his face. “Noah is huge now.”

“Well, yeah.” Jackson said, sounding for a moment less like a giant douchy lizard and more like a human being. “He takes after his father like that.”

“Is that the onzie I sent up?” Stiles grinned, “Damn, look at that! Baby Whittamore got his style on!”

“Yeah, Lydia wanted to put him in it.” Jackson said, his voice warmer when he was talking about his son than at any other time. “He puked up over it though, so don’t-”

There was a slight scuffle on the other side of the line, and suddenly Lydia was back. “Don’t you dare try to change the subject Stilinski. Don’t think I’m not wise to your deflecting tactics. You are an idiot.”

“She’s sorry.”

“Of course she’s sorry!” Lydia snapped. “She got caught!”

The pack, which was still mostly based in Beacon Hills, never liked Sarah. Lydia **_hated_** her, for some unknown reason. Stiles put it down to her sudden and shocking realisation that Stiles was the one for her and she was too late to announce her undying love for him. Possibly.

Sarah was removed from all supernatural shenanigans, mostly because Stiles had been told, point blank, not to tell her about the Pack. And without the Pack, telling her about werewolves, and Banshees and magic just seemed... unreal. Stiles had really wanted Sarah to be real. Safe. Protected. So he nodded when Scott asked if he would keep the secret, and he glared when Derek demanded – but he did what they wanted.

“Lydia, I don’t see me getting all up in your personal life so can you please just-”

“Seriously?” She gasped. “Did you just say that to me? To **_me_**?!” Damn, Stiles thought belatedly, she had a point. “You know what? I’m going to let that slide.” She announced. “Because you obviously aren’t thinking properly.” There was a moments silence on the line before she took a deep breath. “Stiles, she’s using you.”

“Goodbye Lydia.”

“I love you, Stiles.”

“I love you too.” He replied, before hanging up the phone and hitting the speed dial on his desk phone.

It rang four times before it was picked up.

“McCall Construction.” A male voice said down the line, only to be cut off with an exasperated:

“You told **_Lydia_**? Dude! Not cool!”

* * *

 

It happened again. It happened more than that, if Stiles was being honest with himself, but he never told anyone about it after the second time – before he finally filed for divorce. Jackson had been his lawyer since the former lizard-man graduated at Harvard. Stiles pre-nup was bulletproof, although Sarah’s mom had taken a good few shots at it.

Even Stiles could tell they didn’t have the heart to keep going though, the last time – the final time – she’d been caught, Stiles had invited her father over for a beer after their fortnightly squash game and they’d walked in on her mid-coitus on the kitchen table. Her dad hadn’t been able to look him in the eyes since.

At 27 years old, he was divorced. His perfect life didn’t seem quite so perfect any more.

* * *

 

“I’m going to suggest that you keep the hive closed until you can move the young.” Stiles advised the human-looking man standing beside him as he pointed to a map. “Here would be ideal. Kansas isn’t known for a lot of Arachne – but I’ll send up Nick with you, he can draw out some protection runes, lay some boundary spells, just in case.”

“We’d prefer if you would do it.” The man said, and if he listened closely; he might have been able to hear more than just his voice, which seemed to vibrate out of his throat.

“Nick is one of my best men.” Stiles assured him. “But if it eases your mind, I will come up once he is finished and take a look.” He paused. “I can add it to your account.”

“Money isn’t a problem.” The man said, and yup, Stiles could hear the smaller pincers inside his mouth clicking as he talked. “The queen asked for you specifically. We heard about the Hive in New York.”

There wasn’t much Stiles could say to that. New York has been his first big job, for another Apocrita hive. Their queen had been injured and unable to leave the city – they’d paid him a small fortune to go there and keep her safe. He earned every brown cent on that job. He didn’t sleep for a week, not until the hive was able to move.

Word of his work spread pretty quickly after that. He bought his first apartment with the money from New York. It looked like this job would be equally beneficial.

“Mr Stilinski?” His assistant said, after a subtle tap on the door, “I’m sorry to disturb you, but there is a Hunter at the desk asking to talk to you,”

Beside him, the male Apocrita watched him carefully. “Did you get a name?”

“Argent, sir.” She said, keeping her eyes carefully lowered. Names like that could get a person into a lot of trouble, hunters in general were trusted amongst almost all otherworlders – but the Argents had not made friends. The poison from Gerard and Kate took a long time to wash clean.

“I have no dealing with Argent Hunters.” Stiles reminded his assistant firmly. She’d been working for him for 4 years. She should have already known that. Stiles held a grudge.

“She says her name is Alison.”

Stiles wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry. Alison Argent. He hadn’t seen her since before he finished high school, after her break-up with Scott. He’d thought her father had taken her to France.

He turned to the man beside him. “Would you please excuse me? I’ll send Nick along to discuss the exact protection you are looking for and to draw up the plans.” He paused, wondering if he should explain further. “She was once a good friend. Before... her family interfered.”

“Your dislike of the Argent Hunters is well known.” The man said, “The hive understands the need for old friends. We will talk to the one called Nick.”

“Thank you,” Stiles said, nodding formally. “My well wishes to your hive.”

“And ours for your pack.”

* * *

 

10 years can change a person in so many different ways. Stiles knew he looked different now. His buzz cut was long gone, his hair was styled – his clothes were tailored. His suit was blue, the jacket forgotten on the back of his chair, shirt sleeved rolled up to reveal similarly coloured tattoos along his forearms. They covered his entire body and had hurt like hell, inked with poisons and cures, spells and runes – Sarah had hated them, and he’d not been in a position to tell her why they had been important.  

He was broader and faster, able to focus now he knew how – a man, and not the boy he was when he left Beacon Hills.

He expected to find Alison just as changed. He was wrong.

Her hair was just the same, her eyes, mouth and nose just like he remembered. She was wearing a pair of tight black jeans and calf length leather boots, a warm grey sweater and a black oversized bag in her hand. She looked like... Alison. Unchanged. A little older around the eyes. Still the same though.

“Oh my god, Stiles!” She gasped as he walked towards her. Her voice was the same, he noted, before her arms were wrapped around his neck in a hug that he’d not expected. “It’s so good to see you!”

She still smelled the same.

“Alison Argent.” He said, aware that his voice was wavering a little at the end of her name. “Long time no see.” He squeezed her back, before pulling away. “Come on. We’re not going to talk here. Lunch.” He looked over his shoulder. “Anna, can you send Nick into conference room 4? Get one of Jacksons people on the line too – the Apocrita agrees to the normal terms.”

“Yes Mr Stilinski.” She nodded. “Shall I clear this afternoons appointments?”

“Give the Shifter to Harvey, she’s good with her own kind.” He paused. “Call Gale and tell him that something came up – and remind him about the game on Tuesday.”  He looked at Alison. “How do you feel about seafood?”

* * *

 

“I have to see him.” Alison said, looking down at the untouched food on her plate. Her hands were steady, but Stiles had learned to sense a person – he could see her aura shift and tremble. She was panicking.

“You really don’t.” Stiles pointed out. “That’s a nice rock on your finger.”

She was getting married. Married to a nice guy, who worked in retail – he had nothing to do with hunting, or wolves. A nice guy. Her heart wasn’t in it, that much was obvious.

“I have to know.”

Scott knew. Stiles thought bitterly. Scott had always known, Alison was the one for him. His other half. His mate. Which was why he’d remained single, why he didn’t date, why he spent his college life working his ass off to be a better man – no parties, no hook-ups. He’d expected Alison to come back. Stiles looked at his own plate (he’d eaten, because really, the food here was amazing) and sighed. Scott had been right, Alison had come back. Just about 10 years later than she should have. “You don’t know what it’s like, Stiles.” She said, eyes never leaving her food. “I think about him all the time. Every day. How can I marry Luke if I’m still... in love...” She whispered the last words, voice hardly even making his ears. “With Scott?”

“I’m not really the person you need to talk to about this.” Stiles pointed out. “The ink isn’t even dry on my divorce papers.”

That seemed to snap her out of herself imposed funk. “You got married?” She exclaimed, voice high pitched and carrying. “To who?” She paused. “Lydia?”

Stiles laughed at that, really laughed, because any idea that Alison had kept in touch with her high school friend on the sly just evaporated.

“Sarah Harding.” Stiles said. “6 years we were married.” He managed. God, did he really sound that bitter? “Divorce came through last month.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me too.”

“I still need to see him.”

* * *

 

News travelled fast. Stiles had a stack of messages at the office when he got back after dropping Alison off at her hotel. All of them were asking if he had taken on the Argent Hunters as clients. He couldn’t leave them to rot on his desk like he wanted. Some of the messages were from people he considered friends.

Sighing, he picked up the phone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've been on something of a hiatus with writing, and I'm really sorry that it's taken me so long to get back to you all. I've just really not been feeling the writing groove, and since I got caught writing at work (I did warn ya'll that would happen!) I've just not had the time to get anything new done.  
> So... I can't promise that this is going to be updated as often at the other work I've done, you might be looking at maybe a new chapter a week or something - I'm really sorry.
> 
> As with all my work, I have no idea of a plot and I'm making this up as I go. So if you see any gaping plot holes. let me know and I'll try to patch them up later. 
> 
> I really wanted to do an older fic, where everyone is adults and have moved on in their lives, so this kinda came to life. I' not sure where it is going, so, like always, you're all just going to have to trust me.
> 
> And for those that have been following me for a while, I'm all caught up with Supernatural, I'm in love with Agents of Shield, I wanna live in Sleepy Hollow, I've just been to see Thor, and if you aren't watching The Black List, you an I need to have words. 
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me if you are a long time reader and if you are just new to my work, please don't start with this because it's not even a thing yet, go back and read my other stuff, and maybe by the time you done I'll have worked out a plot!
> 
> Oh, and I get so many messages about how I should do a Supernatural / Teen Wolf Crossover and I juts want to say, check out my 'Aftershock' fiction - because it's possibly the best thing I ever wrote! 
> 
> So... Yeah. Thanks for reading, let me know what you think, and where you might like to see this go, because I've not got a clue!
> 
> Love you lots like jelly tots,  
> Robyn (aka 74days and bmwiid!)


	2. Chapter 2

Sundays used to be Stiles favourite day of the week. Sarah would drag him, protesting for the sake of it, shopping at those stupid farmers markets, buying organic vegetables and overpriced tack. They’d eat lunch at Bayona where they had a permanent reservation, maybe go out to the club and play some Tennis. Stiles called it their ‘Standing Date’ which made Sarah laugh, and she was so beautiful when she laughed. Stiles missed that. He missed having someone to spend his free time with.

Alison had never been to New Orleans before - she’d told him on the car ride back to her hotel – and for the first time in a month, Stiles thought maybe he’d get out of his Sunday funk. Spend some time around the city he loved. Show it off a little.

And spending time with Alison wouldn’t hurt, try to convince her that seeing Scott was a bad idea. Such a bad idea. Because he’d never get over being left again.

“This place is stunning!” Alison gasped, as they strolled through the French Quater. Her arm was linked in his, a shadow of their former friendship, but nice all the same. They’d stopped at CC’s for coffee and were making their way down Royal when he saw Sarah.

“Fuck,” He groaned, because damn, she looked great. Alison was too busy looking around at the street with an expression of simple pleasure to notice Stiles expression. But Sarah noticed. God, did Sarah notice.

“Who,” Sarah said, walking on her towering heels over to them both, “The hell are you?”

Alison looked her up and down, and then glanced at Stiles. “Alison.” She said, voice tinged with a hard edge that Stiles had almost forgotten. “And you must be Sarah. The ex.”

“Didn’t take you long to move on.” Sarah pointed out, maybe knowing on some subliminal woman only level that Alison wasn’t about to be cowed down. Stiles, on the other hand... Stiles had always been whipped by Sarah. “It’s only been a month.”

He wanted to quip. Wanted to say something, anything, that wouldn’t leave him standing in the street feeling like his heart was being squeezed by a vice, because this was Sarah. His Sarah. Christ, he still wore his wedding band.

“No, it really didn’t.” Alison said, voice pleasant and open. Her arm was still linked through his, weird how it felt like a lifeline. “It was lovely to meet you, though.” She smiled.

Sarah smiled back, probably without thinking. Stiles remembered that Alison always seemed to have that effect on people. She’d been sweet to the point of diabetes... right up until she wasn’t. Then she was the secret lovechild of Black Widow and Hawkeye – and if you ever saw that side of her it was really difficult to match it up with the blushing and the doe eyes.

Sarah walked on, with a flick of her hair that reminded him of Lydia back in high school, and Alison gave his arm a little tug, just enough to get his feet working. After a few moments, she spoke.

“She wasn’t what I was expecting.”

“What were you expecting?” Stiles said, curiosity overtaking his desire to melt through the cracks in the sidewalk.

“I don’t know. Maybe not so... Blond?”

Stiles snorted a laugh. Yeah, no one really expected Stiles to get a girl like Sarah. Stiles included. “I mean, she’s really pretty!” Alison blurted. “But like... so... um...” She stalled, waving the hand that wasn’t tucked into his arm expressively. “Neat?” She paused. “Although, looking at you now... I just can’t get it through my head that you’re not in plaid.”

He laughed. “I used to live in it.” He agreed. “But Sarah thought it gave a more... professional look... you know? I needed an image.” Image had been important to Sarah.

“I miss your hoodie.” Alison smiled, squeezing his arm.

“Me too.”

* * *

 

She’d bought him a hoodie. It was red, bright, eyecatching red. It made them both laugh, and the girl in the store gave them strange looks, but Stiles didn’t care.

* * *

 

“When was the last time you went home?” Alison asked him. They were sitting at the picnic tables in city park, people watching.

“A while.” He admitted. “Dad comes here, and the others, you know, if they can.” They didn’t try very often. Stiles wasn’t pack anymore, it was a formality now – no longer the boy who ran with wolves – but other packs respected the bond. There were complications, no one had really gotten on with Sarah, and she actively encouraged him to stay away. He tried to explain to Alison, words tumbling over themselves as he rambled on. After a while, his voice trailed off – he hadn’t had a case of verbal vomit in a long time.

“You really loved her, didn’t you?” She said, after the longest paused.

“Yeah.”

“She changed you a lot.” Alison pointed out. “You feel like a different person when you talk about her.”

“She made me better.”

He was a little surprised when Alison shook her head vehemently. “No.” She said, voice steady. “She made you different. Not better. Different. Everything you just said, about the... the pack... and her – it’s like... she changed you, and they didn’t like it.”

“You think?” He laughed, and god, look at all the bitterness again. “You know, I don’t even talk to Derek anymore?” He managed. “He just... he totally cut me out. Cora too – like I just wasn’t there. He wouldn’t let me tell Sarah about the pack, and Scott... Scott agreed. He agreed with Derek over **_me_**.”

“You said you still talk to Lydia?”

“Yeah.” He paused. “I was her man of honour.” He grinned, “Jackson was flipping out, because obviously Danny was his best man, and he thought it would be weird – you know?” He grinned at the memory of the wedding party dance. “Danny copped a feel in the middle of the dance floor, I mean, that asshole really grabbed me.” Alison laughed along with him. “I always knew I was attractive to gay guys.”

* * *

 

I’m going back.” Alison said as they lingered over desert. “Please come with me.”

“You’re going to hurt him.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I do.”

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi all!  
> I'm really glad you all liked the first chapter, and I'm sorry that this one is so very short! I'll be adding another chapter soon - this leads on quite nicely to the next section which starts off with some Derek POV.
> 
> It was really nice to hear back from so many of you! I recognise so many of your names :) I'm glad your also reading this story too.  
> I've also got (for the first time, you'll know!) even a bit of a plot this time! Shocker!!
> 
> Also, I've just finished watching Almost Human, and I'm all caught up with SPN and if you want to talk to me about either just hit me up on twitter (@bmwiid) or tumblr (bmwiid or 74days)  
> Cause you know I love to hear back!! :D


	3. Chapter 3

Derek flipped the top of the newspaper he was reading down so he could look at Cora. “That doesn’t look like work to me.” He pointed out. She flipped him off with a growl, which made him smirk a little. “You told me to keep you focused.”

“It’s dull as shit and I’m taking a break.”

“You’re the one who wanted to become an accountant.” Derek pointed out, rustling the paper and going back to the article he was reading.

“Yeah, and you wanted to become a fucking buzzkill, so leave me in peace.”

He’d already been for his run, already showered and eaten – while Cora was still in the same clothes she wore to bed, papers scattered all over the kitchen table. He’d been relegated to the breakfast nook when he’d come down from his shower. “You could have done this at your place.” He pointed out.

“I totally would, except for the fact I don’t have a roof because of the stupid remod – oh my god.”

Derek flipped the paper down again and looked at his sister. The last three words weren’t so much spoken as breathed out in a single _ohmygod_ rush. She looked up at him from her laptop, and then back to the screen. Then back up at him. He quirked an eyebrow in a silent ‘Well?’ that would normally cause her to roll her eyes at him.

“Stiles just posted a picture on Facebook.” She said, as if that explained everything. Derek shrugged. Stiles wasn’t his probl- “He’s just checked in at his dads.”

It took a few moments for him to process that, because... well... it just did. Stiles hadn’t come back to Beacon Hills in 8 years, 3 months and 15 days. Not that Derek was counting. He just... knew. Cora was watching him, carefully. Like she expected him to do something.

He went back to his paper and ignored her.

Stiles was back.

* * *

 

Stiles was back. It kept running through his head, on a constant loop. That one line of a song that repeated so often that you weren’t even sure any longer what song it was. Derek was sure when he opened the front door he could smell him, which was ridiculous, because the Stilinski house was on the other side of town, and downwind, and... Derek was being stupid.

Derek knew what was going on in Stiles life, mostly because Jackson was still his pack, and Isaac too – and they kept him informed if they thought he needed to know. So he knew Stiles had gotten a divorce. But he’d gotten a divorce over a month ago, and he’d only just come home, so Derek was pretty sure that it wasn’t related.

His mobile rang, jolting him out of his thoughts, making him aware that he was standing at his door, scenting the air outside, looking for a trace of something that would be impossible to smell from the other side of town.

“Hale.” He grunted, hitting the answer button. He didn’t recognize the number, but that didn’t mean a thing. He only had one contact saved, and that was because Cora had programmed it into the damn thing.

“I just wanted to let you know I was in town.” Stiles voice said, after a second.

“I heard.” Derek managed. He wanted to say more. He’d gotten good at talking to people, even Cora couldn’t bitch at him anymore, he’d gotten past this... abruptness.

“I’m not the only one who came back.” Stiles voice said. “Alison Argent is with me. In the interest of full disclosure, I thought you should know.”

“Scott?”

“I’ve already called him.” Stiles paused. “She’s getting married.”

Fuck. Derek closed his eyes and managed not to growl down the line. Scott wasn’t going to take that well at all. Alison was his first love, he was convinced that they were mates, because of magical feelings, or some crap like that. Derek had tried to tell him that mates just weren’t a thing... but getting Scott to think straight when it came to that girl was impossible.

Derek would have to be on call from now on, because Scott was an Alpha too – a stronger Alpha – but without the foundation and support of a pack.

Derek had Jackson, Cora and Isaac as his pack, Lydia wasn’t a wolf but as a Banshee she swore herself to her husband’s pack, and her son, Noah, was born with an impressive set of canines and a full head of hair. Danny too – human but still pack, because of Ethan – who’d given up his Alpha power to keep Danny alive after he’d almost been drowned by the Kelpie. Derek never expected Ethan to become a member of his pack, but then again, Derek didn’t expect to become Alpha at all.

But Scott had never turned anyone, and was far too powerful in his own right to join Derek's.

“Thought you need to know.” Stiles said, and in the background Derek could hear Johns voice – calling Stiles to breakfast. “Bye.”

“Bye.” Derek said, but Stiles had already hung up.

Stiles was back.

* * *

 

Stiles was back, and Derek was now convinced that he’d been all over town, because the place reeked of him. He could, and this time he didn’t think he was imagining it, scent him everywhere.

Even places he knew Stiles wouldn’t have had time to go, lingered with a smell that was pure Stiles.

Derek slumped at the desk and felt a groan in the back of his throat.

“Are you feeling okay, Mr Hale?” Someone asked, a voice from the middle of the class.

“I’m fine.” He grunted, pushing up so he was back on his feet. “Show of hands if anyone even looked at the required reading over the weekend?”

About half the class raised their hands. He glared. A few hands went down. He waited. Three more hands dropped.

He rolled his eyes and there was an embarrassed laugh from a few students.

Stiles was back.

* * *

 

Derek had lunch with Isaac, grading papers slightly apart from the rest of the faculty. Isaac had graduated in the middle of his class – one year of bad grades worked against him more than Derek had expected. He’d worked his ass off at college though, and managed to get a job teaching alongside Derek at Beacon Hills. Derek’s education in New York gave him a slight advantage when going for his teaching diploma, and for some reason, the pupils really liked him. That is... when they weren’t imagining themselves madly in love with him. Or Isaac. It happened more often than either of them were willing to admit – Cora found it extremely hilarious.

Isaac, who looked like he was about three steps away from pulling out his blond curls, looked up at him. “Did you know that Hitler was having an incestuous relationship with Stalin?” He asked, voice slightly strangled.

“I did not.” Derek smirked.

“I hate my job. I hate Wikipedia more.” Isaac said, picking up the red marker and giving Derek a look from under his lashes. “So I was on Facebook this morning.” He said, voice far too calm.

“That’ll rot your brain.” Derek pointed out. He knew where this conversation would lead, he needed to nip it in the bud. “Cora mentioned it already, and I spoke to Stiles this morning.” He looked directly at his beta and frowned. “Have you spoken to Scott?”

Isaac looked a little confused as he shook his head. “Why?” This conversation wasn’t going on the direction he’d originally intended.

“Alison came with him.”

“Oh fuck.”

Yeah.

* * *

 

That was the best thing about Alison coming back to town after just over 10 years away – her return eclipsed anything the pack might have had to say to him about Stiles return.

He’d checked his phone before as he left the school, Isaac would already be on the field, going through suicide runs with the lacrosse team he coached – far enough away from Derek to drop any kind of hint. Eight missed calls, not as bad as he was expecting.

He ignored the calls, mostly because he wasn't quite sure who had called without the number saved to his phone, and went right to the text messages. Three from Scott. Derek sighed, hit the 'call contact' button and waited for the younger Alpha to pick up the phone.

"McCall Construction." A strong male voice said down the line.

"Returning your call." Derek said, walking towards his car. The leather book bag hitting against his thigh as he walked. He had papers to mark - he hoped that this would stop Cora from grilling him.

"Oh, yeah, okay!" Scott enthused. "Sorry, I forgot you'd be in class."

Derek could hear Stiles in the background. He was talking to Scott's assistant, a younger guy who was working his way through community college and trying to get some hands on experience with Scott.

"That's okay." Derek shrugged, walking through the empty car park. "Everything okay?"

"Did you know that Alison was back in town?"

Derek couldn't tell if his tone was argumentative or simply questioning. "I haven't seen her." He hedged, in case this was another thing that would set them on a course of arguing again.

"Nah, Stile said she was checking out the old Argent house today."

"Are you okay?" Derek said, juggling his phone and his bag as he unlocked his car. "Hang on, I'm putting you on speaker phone, I'm in the car."

"Yeah, no, I'm good." Scott said, his voice slightly distorted. "Stiles and I are going to O’Neil’s, you wanna come? Cora and Isaac will be there."

Derek looked at the dash of his car for a few moments. "I've got papers to grade." He said, unsure if he'd be able to sit through the meaningful looks that his little sister and youngest beta would be throwing him.

"I'm sure you'll be fine." Scott laughed, and he could hear Stiles laughter in the background.

"Tell him to get his sourwolf ass there!"

Derek resisted the urge to sigh, knowing Scott would be able to hear him.

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"See ya!" Scott said, smile in his voice. He was always chirpier when he’d been talking to Stiles. "7 o’clock!"

* * *

 

Derek walked into the bar, and tried not to notice the three students who tried to dive under the table. Considering this wasn’t the type of place that normally saw a lot of fake id’s, Derek wasn’t sure if they were drinking or just mortified to see their teacher outside of the classroom.

Isaac never had that problem, when his students saw him they would normally wave and talk to him for a while. Derek didn’t seem to generate that kind of relationship with his pupils.

He didn’t need to ask the waitress where everyone was, he’d heard them as he got out of the car. Laughter, loud voices and the easy familiarity of old friends washed over him like a wave. They really didn’t all get together than often any more. There was no real need.

“Derek!” Isaac waved as he walked towards them. “Wasn’t sure if you were going to make it.”

Neither had Derek, it had taken three text messages from Cora and a phone call from Lydia before he even got in the shower.

The pack had taken up a corner booth and added two more tables to the mix, and it looked like everyone had shown up. Scott, Lydia, Jackson, Danny, Ethan, Isaac and Cora, as well as Melissa and John, who seemed pleased to be included.

And of course… Stiles.

He was wedged between Scott and Lydia, looking nothing at all like Derek remembered. He wasn’t sure if he liked the new look (was it new? How many years had he looked like that?) Or not – but the crisp white shirt and indigo vest made him look… Older. He looked like the kind of man who’d have a girl like Lydia on his arm – polished and smooth. The only thing about him that betrayed his underlying Stiles-ness, was the bright blue tattoos that were clearly visible on his forearms. He’d seen pictures of them – Stiles photographed a lot of his life, and Facebook was the tool of almost every stalker in the world at this point, so Derek knew that they ran all the way up his arms and across his body. He also knew that it had been something that Sarah (Derek refused to call her his wife) had disliked. He remembered the photograph that Stiles had posted, the one of them on their honeymoon – those stupid orange shorts that rode low on his hips and pale skin covered with tattoos.

‘Take this down, baby!’ The comment had said, ‘People will think you’re in a gang!’

Derek had wanted to punch his fist through the screen, because she obviously hadn’t known a thing about the markings that covered his body. The power they held.

“Well look who finally stopped torturing young minds with Othello and show his face!” John laughed, pulling out a chair closest to him. “Out on a school night, Derek?” Melissa followed up. “I expected this of Isaac, but you?”

The table laughed, and Derek smiled, even though the joke wasn’t that funny and he’d heard it a million times before. It was still nice to be included after being alone for so long as a teenager.

“I’m an old man now.” He commented, sitting down. “Got to get home before my hip gives out.”

Everyone laughed at that, too – It was obviously going to be a night of good spirits.

* * *

 

They ordered food, because the drink wasn’t going to cut it with the wolves and almost everyone had to work the next day, but to any outsider looking in, Derek was sure that they’d think they were all wasted. They had been getting louder and louder, conversations ranging from sex lives (“Oh god, Lydia, no one wants to know that about Jackson!” had been yelled more than once) to work, hobbies and everything in between. Derek was aware that most of this was for Stiles benefit – he’d missed a lot.

“Wait, hold up!” Stiles announced after an hour or so. “Are you telling me that Derek Hale, king of the lurk and disproportionate response to sarcasm, became a teacher? Of English?”

Everyone laughed, even Derek.

“He won best teacher three times in a row.” Cora announced. “He’s got these little trophies, and he keeps them on his-”

“Oh my god!” Stiles laughed, as Derek shot his foot out to kick his younger sister under the table with a glare. “Oh, dear god!” He wheezed, “Please tell me someone had pictures of this?”

“I do.” Lydia smirked as Derek muttered ‘Traitor’ under his breath, which only caused stiles and the others to laugh even louder.

“Isaac won it last year.” Derek mentioned.”

“Yeah,” Cora grinned, “But that was because he took over from Finstock as lacrosse coach.”

“Finstock retired?” Stiles gasped, and Derek tried not to focus all of his attention on Stiles. He’d found himself doing it all night, looking at him, watching him, drinking in every word and slight movement. He was less twitchy, it seemed unlikely that he’d knock himself out with a flail of his arms, but as the night progressed, he’d gotten more active – some of the old Stiles, the Stiles that Derek remembered, shone through.

“God, yeah.” Isaac sighed. “I mean, he was a good coach, but he was batshit crazy. He’d been dodging retirement for years.”

“The only reason he finally left was if they made Isaac coach.” Cora said, and Derek didn’t miss the look Isaac shot his little sister. As always though, Cora missed it entirely by grinning at Stiles. “Wanted to know that the title was going to one of ‘his boys’.”

“Which totally isn’t uber creepy at all.” Stiles said, with a mock shudder.

“Shut up, both of you!” Isaac squirmed. “He just wanted to make sure someone gave the speeches.”

“Oh god, do you make the speeches?” Stiles gasped. “Please tell me that you make the speeches!”

“All the classics.” Scott chimed in. “The two limes and the one duck is still my favourite.”

“No no no!” Jackson said, waving his hand dismissively. “The ‘Greenberg is a Moron’ is my personal favourite.”

“You know, he still gave that speech? I mean, Greenberg left, like… the year before us, and he still gave that speech at least once a week.” Danny laughed. “Isaac just does the classics, Don’t Screw Up… The Bigger They Are…”

They stayed until they were politely asked to leave, and not once did anyone mention Alison Argent.

Derek knew it was too good to last.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the next chapter as promised!  
> I'm glad you all liked the last one - a lot of people thought that Stiles might not be welcome back home, but DUDES, this is Stiles! Everyone loves him :)  
> So - are you all watching Almost Human? Good god, it is fantastic!


	4. Chapter 4

He was in class, watching his students bowed heads over the latest paper he’d sprung on them, when his phone started to vibrate on his desk. This caused an almost mass rush of muffled laughter, he had strict rules about phones in his classes, and he’d just broken his own rule – something he never did.

“Settle down.” He said, reaching over his desk to grab the still vibrating phone. “This is not a good time,” he said, answering the unknown number. “I’m at work.”

“No shit,” Stiles voice said clearly. “I’m sitting in my rental car, watching Alison walk into Scott’s work, trying to remember that I am no longer a teenage sleuth and remember that the last time I did this a certain sourwolf was sitting beside me.”

Derek tried not to grin, because really, there was nothing to smile about if Alison was visiting Scott. Someone at the back of the class whispered, low, too low to be heard by the teacher at the front of the class (Unless the said teacher was, say, a werewolf) “Mr Hale’s got a girlfriend.”

He glared at the students en masse. “This really isn’t a good time.” He said, unable to keep the warmth out of his voice, aware that he had almost 20 sets of ears listening to his voice, watching his every move. He’d felt under less scrutiny at the witches council.

“Yeah, I know. I… I shouldn’t have called.”

“It’s okay.” Derek said, maybe a touch too fast, going on the eyebrows that were rising around the room.

“You think I’m over-reacting about Scotts reaction?”

“No.” Derek said. “I’ll check up on him after I get out of here.”

“Right, okay.” There was silence on the other side of the line for a few seconds, and Derek wasn’t sure if perhaps Stiles had hung up. “I don’t know how to tell Scott I’m not moving back to Beacon Hills.” Stiles said suddenly.

Derek blinked, unsure how he was supposed to react to that, He’d thought that Stiles had come back, for good. “Everyone keeps talking about meeting up next month, and I don’t… shit Derek, I’m sorry, you’re at work. Hanging up!” Stile finished, voice chipper and clear, nothing like the way it had been only seconds before when he sounded unsure and nothing like the Stiles Derek had committed to memory.

“Back to work, please.” He said, putting his phone into his pants pocket and trying to studiously ignore his own students for the rest of the hour. He’d never seen such knowing looks from teenagers in the whole of his life, and he remembered Isaac and Erica when they’d gotten together…

As always, though, thinking of Erica brought back a lot of memories, and none of them good. He had let her down, her and Boyd, and he had no way of fixing that. He wasn’t going to make the same mistake with Scott. He would make sure that the true Alpha had a pack around him, even if it wasn’t, technically, his pack.

 

* * *

 

Stiles wasn’t sure why he’d called Derek, of all the people he could have dialled. Maybe it was habit, being back at his dads had him thinking like a teenager, and thinking like a teenager was bound to bring up Derek, because… well… Stiles had done a lot of thinking about Derek when he’d been at High School. And then later, too – at Collage. In fact, hadn’t his very first serious college boyfriend been an almost carbon copy of tall dark and brooding? Of course, that had been before Sarah, and her Lydia like perfection.

So he’d called, before thinking that Derek was now a functioning human (kind of) being and that maybe getting a call in the middle of class might not be such a good idea…

Jesus, Derek Hale taught English. How in the hell had that happened? He’d have to talk to people, he’d have to act like a real person and not some mountain man, communicating in grunts and eyebrow twitches.

And from what Isaac had told him, Derek was a great teacher, and everyone loved him. Which meant that the only person Derek had communication issues with was Stiles.

Then again, he thought, that had been a long time ago, and hadn’t he been okay with him since he’d gotten back?

Stiles refused to think about the only thing that had changed between this visit and his last meeting with the pack as a whole – which was, of course – Sarah.

He watched the front of Scott’s building – and Scott had a really nice loft office, with clean lines and exposed beams, and nothing at all like Stiles had expected when Scott had bought the place years ago – and waited for Alison to re-appear. The idea that she was just going to walk in, say “Hey” and admit to Scott, the Alpha, that she might be getting married, but she was still holding a flame for her high school boyfriend was almost as funny as Stiles forgetting that he’d had a massive crush on Derek for most of his high school career. Derek who was now a teacher. And… oh, god, that was really hot, wasn’t it?

He’d been sitting in his car, staring at the building for so long he wasn’t even aware of what was going on around him until there was a rap against the glass window of the rental. Stiles flinched, almost about to start casting his protective spells, when he realised that he recognised the person in uniform. The sheriff.

He rolled down the window with the touch of a button and grinned. “Well if it isn’t probationary officer Cody Mills!” He smirked at the older man, “I haven’t seen you since you accidently shot at me in the reserve.”

Cody Mills, who’d been green behind the ears and his father’s pet project when Stiles had been in his final year of high school, blushed. Stiles always thought he was cute – a bit too blond, a bit too nice – and the fact that he’d almost killed him once only heightened the attraction. Stiles didn’t want to look at that too closely in case he found something out about himself he wasn’t quite ready to face.

“Stiles Stilinski!” Cody blushed harder. “You ever going to let that go?”

“Not till my dying breath,” He smirked, “Else how would I ever get away with anything in this town?”

Cody laughed, an open, warm laugh that everyone like him for, and helped him become sheriff. “True” He nodded. “But I got a call that there was a dangerous looking gangster casing out the deli on main street, and you know I had to come check that out.”

Stiles looked down the street keenly, “This place has dangerous looking gangsters?” He said, unable to keep the excitement out of his voice. “Really?”

Cody laughed again, and shook his head. “Stiles, she was talking about you.”

Stiles blinked, and blinked again, because… well… he was Stiles Stilinski. He was about as dangerous as… well… as dangerous as a Shaman with earth connection and a wolf pack, which (he had to admit) made him the most dangerous person in Beacon Hills by a mile… but… a gangster?

“You think I look like a gangster?” He asked, unsure.

“Well, the tinted windows, the expensive suit, rental car – visible tattoos…” Cody voice trailed off. “Yeah… Stiles, you look like a gangster. Or a hitman.”

Stiles laughed, admitting that that was probably the case. “Look, I’m waiting on a friend – Alison Argent, you remember her?”

Cody frowned, and then nodded. “I remember her dad sold a few of the guys at the station some really nice guns.”

“Yeah, well, she’s visiting Scott, and I just wanted to make sure that everything was okay. They’ve got… you know… history.” He paused, aware of how that might sound. “They dated, she’s getting married to someone else.”

“Gotcha.” Cody nodded. “I’ll make sure Mrs Maxwell knows you aren’t about the steal this weeks supply of pastrami.”

* * *

 

Stiles didn’t have to wait long for Alison to appear after Cody left, whistling and grinning, looking for all the world like you’re typical small town cop.

She crossed the road and climbed into the passenger seat without a word. “I don’t need you to follow me.” She told him, “But since you’re here, could you take me back to the hotel?”

Stiles nodded, starting the engine, and praying to god that Scott was going to be okay. His plan had been to wait till Alison had left and then drop in on Scott, casual like.

Alison was staring out of the window as he drove, hands folded peacefully on her lap. It wasn’t until they were almost at the hotel that she spoke up.

“I thought it would make things easier.” She admitted. “To see him.”

“Did it?”

“No. I think… he’s not changed.” She said, like she was telling him some huge secret. Stiles knew Scott hadn’t changed. Not like Stiles had changed. “He’s just the same guy he was I High School. Just older.” She paused. “Better. Better at being Scott.” She looked at Stiles with a lost expression. “It’s not easier, he reminds me of _**everything**_.”

 

* * *

 

Derek went to Scott’s office directly after the last bell sounded, telling Isaac where he was going, and why. Scott and Isaac were still very close, and Derek wanted to make sure that he wasn’t left out of the loop, which had caused so many issues in the past.

The office was nice, open and calming, with a few personal touches that really made it feel like Scott – the weird display case that seemed to be suspended in mid-air that housed all those little treasures of his life, his lacrosse stick, his diploma, a signed baseball hat, a photograph of the whole ‘gang’ at graduation, a collection of weird looking stones and shells that he’d collected when he was on his summer vacation to Hawaii with ‘the boys’ – Danny taught him to surf – and small, weird looking baggies that Stiles had given them all – all tokens to keep them protected.

It was a shame that they didn’t work on ex-girlfriends showing up after years, however. That was something even Stiles wasn’t apparently able to ward against.

Scotts assistant had already left for the day, Derek could smell that the only person in the building was Scott, and the lingering scent of the Argent Hunter was everywhere.

“Scott?” He called, as he pushed open the wide doors.

The Alpha, the only True Alpha Derek had ever met, was sitting at his sketching table, but Derek could see that he wasn’t working – he was staring out into space, not paying any attention to the pencil in his hand. “Scott?” He said again, noticing that this time, his voice had registered with the younger man. His head snapped up, and he blinked a few times, before realising where he was. Then he smiled.

“Hey man!” He grinned.

Derek wasn’t sure when they’d become friends, but he was happy to think that they had gotten past the hostility of the past. “Cora is still staying with me.” Derek said, looking around. “She’s making something – I didn’t want to ask what. You’re invited.”

Scott screwed up his face, a comical look that he’d never really grown out of. “Jesus, Derek, I’m sorry, but you know, my supplier for the timber fell through and I really can’t get it done any quicker-”

“You can make it up to me by eating whatever she’s made.” Derek supplied.

“I’ll invite Isaac.” Scott suggested, which Derek thought was a great idea – he was the only person with a pulse who thought Cora was a half decent cook.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took me so long to get this chapter up! Writing is hard when you have to do it without getting fired.   
> I don't know how you all manage.
> 
> I've just hit 50 on my Smuggler for all you SWTOR players. I rock.
> 
> I've just finished watching this weeks Sleepy Hollow, Agents of Shield, Almost Human and The Black List, so... yeah!  
> (seriously though, I'm like... 2 weeks behind on Supernatural and I don't have the time to do all the things!)


End file.
